(This is a poem I wrote on the evening of day 5 at a summer camp.)

[S A N D C A S T L E 3]

I got bad news
The towers were torn down
By the rain

We need to build them tomorrow instead
We’ll have to hurry
The floods take it with them at 6

And on sunday?
We’ll leave this city of sand
Without any trace of evidence

You’d be thinking snow can’t get me here
It’s August, what am I thinking?
But this summer’s colder than others
————–